Playing With Scissors
by Artemis1000
Summary: Itacest. Snip-snap, Feli's scissors go and Lovino wants to shove them down his throat. Feli is dangerously bored, Lovino is trying to remember that good nations don't murder their other half. A fluffy peek into their daily life.


A/N: The things you find when you clean up your Google Drive! This story must have been catching dust for several years, but here it finally is. Enjoy!

Warnings: _Incest_ warnings do apply, though it's a perfectly tame fic

 **Playing With Scissors**

Snip-snap.

"I swear to God, Vene, put down the scissors or I'm going to cut off your curl," Lovino grinds out between clenched teeth in that very uncharacteristically calm tone of voice that he reserves for Feliciano. It is his "try not to kill the man you love" voice, as proven by his use of Feliciano's nation name. He doesn't do that when they're alone unless he's spitting mad or having mind-blowing sex.

Feliciano raises his head to meet his eyes, all wounded innocence with a quivering pouty bottom lip.

Snip. Snap.

Lovino's hands have been curled into fists for what feels like two and a half centuries. It's been closer to half an hour, but they are hurting anyway. You don't strangle your baby brother, you don't strangle your baby brother, you don't...

Snip-snap-snip-snap-snip.

"I'm bored!"

Lovino might have been sympathetic. Might. Possibly. If he were feeling very charitable. If Feliciano hadn't spent the last half hour playing with the scissors he had begged from their boss' secretary back when he still planned to entertain himself with cutting out silhouettes. Lovino hadn't known that scissors could be so fucking annoying until Feliciano proved him wrong.

Truth be told, they've been sitting in their boss' office on these uncomfortable chairs for nearly an hour and Lovino is bored out of his mind, too. He's long since grown tired of fiddling with his cell phone, his gun and his boss' secret documents. But he's not driving his brother insane, is he? No, he's being mature. Shut up. Sulking in sullen silence is very mature.

The glare he shoots Feli is utterly unsympathetic. "The curl, Feli."

Feliciano's bottom lip quivers some more. "But you like my curl!" He's progressed to betrayed innocence.

Lovino's eyes are drawn to his curl. It looks cute and perky, jutting out from his neatly combed hair. Something clenches low in his stomach as unbidden thoughts come to his mind. Just a tug... Feliciano wouldn't be any quieter but they'd both have fun with his ruckus. They can't, of course, if they could they wouldn't have wasted an hour on boredom. They had agreed to keep their personal life at home when they got together. It was a slippery slope, a kiss here, a touch there and before they knew it they would be fucking on the desk. They couldn't take the risk.

Snap-snip-snap.

Something snaps in Lovino just a second later. Before he knows it, he's out of his chair and looming over Feliciano, one hand tearing at his curl and the other wrenching the scissors from him.

Feliciano howls like a banshee, which makes Lovino snort with disdainful fury. He throws the scissors away, noting with satisfaction that they end up under a huge bookcase, well out of his brother's reach.

Lovino's gaze returns to Feliciano's face. The sight of his baby brother's eyes brimming with unshed tears makes all the satisfaction vanish like a popped soap bubble. He clears his throat awkwardly. "Shut up. I wouldn't cut off your curl." Feliciano is still looking utterly pathetic, so he adds a half-hearted, "Dumbass." Not that he cares. Because he doesn't. If his stomach is twisting then its with revulsion at his brother's weakness.

Feliciano sniffles noisily, then he bats Lovino's hand away and shields his curl protectively. The betrayed expression in his eyes is all genuine now... and alright, maybe Lovino is feeling sick with guilt. "You gripped it too hard." His adam's apple bobs as he swallows audibly. "That hurt."

His hands ball into fists again, but this time the only person he's furious with is himself. It's no revelation that it hurt, Lovino has a curl like that, too, and he's squished it before. But Feliciano sounds surprised. He would be surprised because Lovino is one of the very few people in the world he feels completely safe with, nasty temper and mafia side and everything. Lovino takes a deep, shuddery breath. "I'm sorry," comes out as a lame grumble, but saying sorry has never been easy to him and he's afraid of saying more for fear he might mess up again.

That small wavering smile makes swallowing his pride worth it ten times over. Lovino's always thought, secretly, mind you, he would rather cut off his tongue than admit it, that Feli is cavity-inducingly sweet when he's a bit shy and insecure. Such as right now when he stands up and Lovino could bet he's going to kiss him, but then he changes his mind at the last moment and rests his head against his shoulder with a small noise of contentment.

Lovino wraps his arms around his waist and brushes his lips against Feliciano's curl in another, wordless, apology. Feliciano shudders against him. Damn it! He has... Feliciano's breath hitches delicately, he raises his head slowly and it's only then that Lovino realizes it hadn't been a shudder of pain. Gentle lips find his before he can think any further thoughts and he knows he's been forgiven.

"We shouldn't," Lovino murmurs once they come up for breath. "If our boss catches us..."

"Ve," Feliciano coos poutily, but he goes back to innocent cuddling. "Are you still upset with me?" he asks in a tiny, guilty tone of voice.

Oh God he's not... Lovino groans, feeling about two inches tall. "Stop asking dumb questions."

Feliciano hums and snuggles closer. He looks for all the world like a content kitten. It's a little bit ridiculous, but that's the case with everything Feliciano does.

Lovino nuzzles his hair with his lips, first the top of his head, then the side, near his ear. His nose brushes the curl, making Feli give a soft strangled noise that goes right to his groin. He groans, fingers digging into Feliciano's hips. "Fuck, I want you."

He smiles, so gently and sweetly, damn, Lovino's going to buy him a dozen pairs of scissors.

The door opens.

They spring apart guiltily and for the length of the meeting, they barely dare to meet another's eyes.

The next day, Feliciano finds a gleaming new pair of scissors waiting for him on his desk.

Snip-snap sounds accompany Lovino for the rest of the week. He finds it difficult to cling to his irritation with Feliciano's happy squeals at the forefront of his mind.

The End


End file.
